"I think you have the wrong idea," I said, my voice flat, as I stared at Reika's outstretched phone. "I'm not looking for a job. I'm a student."
"Everyone has a price," Reika said with a confident smirk, completely misreading my utter lack of interest as a negotiating tactic.
Before the situation could escalate into a full-blown backstage war, Hina stepped forward, her authority radiating like a physical force. "Reika-san," she said, her voice dangerously calm. "You are interfering with our final preparations. My brother is our guest. Please leave this area immediately, or I will have security escort you out."
Reika's smirk faltered. She knew Hina wasn't bluffing. With a final, lingering look at me that promised this wasn't over, she turned and stormed away.
"Five minutes to showtime!" a stage manager yelled.
The spell was broken. The confrontation dissolved as the urgency of the concert took over. Hina gave me a quick, worried look before being whisked away by her staff. Ayumi reluctantly let go of my arm to get into her final position. Izuwa gave me a single, meaningful glance before following them.
"Come on," I said to Nami, pulling her towards the side of the stage. "We can watch from here. It's the best view in the house, unfortunately."
We found a spot in the wings, a dark space filled with cables and monitor screens, offering a perfect, unobstructed view of the stage. The house lights went down, and a roar erupted from the thousands of people packed into the university quad. It was a physical wave of sound, so powerful you could feel it vibrating in your bones.
Then, the stage exploded with light and sound.
Mikuyi's performance was nothing short of breathtaking. It was a different entity from their rehearsal. This was a polished, high-energy spectacle. They were perfectly in sync, their voices powerful, their energy infectious. They weren't just my sisters anymore; they were idols, transformed into larger-than-life figures by the stage lights and the adoration of the crowd.
Nami watched, completely captivated, singing along to the songs she knew. I watched with a familiar mix of detachment and a strange, hidden sense of pride. They were a chaotic force of nature in my life, but on that stage, they were undeniably brilliant.
Halfway through the set, the pace slowed. The high-energy pop songs gave way to a gentle ballad. Hina stepped forward, a single spotlight isolating her.
"I wrote this next song," she said, her voice soft and carrying a surprising vulnerability. "It's about someone who is always there, a quiet, steady presence in the middle of a storm. Someone who you can always count on, even if you don't always tell them how much they mean to you."
The opening notes of the piano melody filled the air. As she began to sing, her eyes found me in the darkness of the wings. For a fleeting moment, the professional idol Hina Ojori disappeared. It was just Hina, and her gaze was filled with a depth of emotion that went far beyond sisterly affection. It was a look of gratitude, of reliance, of a deep and complicated love. It was a confession, delivered not in words, but in a single, unguarded look.
I, being emotionally dense, just assumed she was happy I was there. I gave a small, awkward nod.
But Nami, standing beside me, saw it all. She saw the mask slip, she saw the raw emotion, and she understood its meaning instantly.
The concert reached its spectacular finale. Confetti cannons exploded, lights flashed, and the crowd roared its approval. As the three of them took their final bows, Ayumi stepped up to the microphone, her face flushed with excitement.
"Thank you all for coming tonight!" she shouted, her voice filled with genuine joy. "And a special thank you to the most important person in my life who is here tonight! My big brother!"
The crowd screamed, their curiosity ignited. On the live feed monitors, I saw the camera operator pan wildly, trying to find me in the wings. The production staff immediately started shouting into their headsets, a wave of panic washing over them. Ayumi had just thrown a grenade into their carefully managed public image.
After the stage went dark, the five of us were huddled in the chaotic backstage area amidst the celebration. Staff members were congratulating my sisters, but a few were giving me wary, curious glances.
In the middle of the happy chaos, Nami pulled me aside, behind a stack of speakers where we could have a moment of relative quiet. Her expression was serious, her usual cheerful energy replaced by a quiet intensity.
"Takeshi," she began, her gaze direct and unwavering. "I've been watching you all day. With your sisters, with that Reika girl… it's insane. But you handle it. You just… endure it."
I shrugged. "It's what I do."
"No, it's more than that," she said, shaking her head. "Look. I'm not going to be like them. I'm not going to play games or drop subtle hints or try to manipulate you. So I'm just going to say it." She took a deep breath. "I like you. A lot. More than just a project partner. More than just a friend."
My brain short-circuited. Of all the possible outcomes of this disastrous day, a direct, unambiguous confession from Nami was not on the list. I stared at her, my mouth slightly open, completely unable to form a coherent thought.
Before I could even begin to process her words, a panicked-looking staff member rushed over to Hina, his face pale.
"Hina-san! There's a problem!" he said, his voice trembling. "The live stream… Ayumi-san's announcement… someone online got a clear shot of Takeshi-san from the rehearsal photos. They put them side-by-side with the shaky backstage footage from the stream. It's a match. They've identified him. His name and face are trending. It's all over the internet."
At that exact moment, my phone, which had been silent in my pocket, began to buzz. And it didn't stop. It was a continuous, frantic vibration, a physical manifestation of my worst nightmare coming true.
I pulled it out. The screen was a waterfall of notifications. Friend requests. Direct messages. Social media tags. News alerts.
"Mikuyi's Mystery Brother Revealed!" "Meet Takeshi Kitamaki: The Genius Engineer Behind the Idols?" "PHOTOS: Is This the Secret Producer of Japan's Hottest Idol Group?"
The roar of the departing crowd, the celebratory shouts backstage, Nami's shocking confession- it all faded into a dull, distant hum. All I could hear was the frantic buzzing of my phone and the sound of the silence I had fought so hard to protect being irrevocably, completely, and publicly shattered.